An eclogue

THE FAUN:
These nymphs, I want to perpetuate them

So bright
Their light crimson, that flutters in the air
Drowsy with dense sleep

Will I love a dream?
My doubt, piles of ancient night, draws to a close
In many a subtle twig, which remained the true
Forest itself, proves, alas, that alone I offered myself
So the ideal fault of roses might triumph.

Consider…

If the women you ramble on about
Represent a wish of your fabulous senses!
Faun, the illusion escapes from blue
And cold eyes, like a weeping spring, the more chaste:
But, while the other sighs, do you say she contrasts
Like the hot day’s breeze in your hair
But no, by the calm and tired swoon
Choking the cool morning with heat, if it fights
Do not murmur, source of water, that doesn’t shed my flute
In the woods, sprayed with agreements; and the only wind
Outside the two pipes quick to exhale before
He scatters the sound in a dry rain
It is, on the horizon unmoved by a wrinkle
The visible and serene artificial breath
Of inspiration, which returns to the sky

O Sicilian edges of a quiet swamp
Of suns which my vanity repeatedly plunders
Tacit under the flowers of sparks, TELL
“How I cut the hollow reeds here, tamed
For my art, when on the grey gold of distant
Greenery offering their vines to the fountains
An animal innocence wavers to rest
And that in the slow preludes where woodwinds are born
That flight of swans, no! Of naiads who run away
Or dive…”
Sluggish, everything burns in a tawny hour
Without marking by which art scattered together
Too many hymens desired from he who seeks the tone
Then I shall awaken in the first fervor
The right and the only one, under an antique stream of light,
Lily! And one of you all for innocence.

Other than this sweet nothing disclosed by their lips
The kiss, that while low from traitors gives assurance
My breast, virgin of proof, gives evidence of a mysterious
Bite, due to some majestic tooth
But enough! Arcane, such chosen as for confident
The vast and twin reed which one plays under the blue
Which, diverting to itself the trouble of the cheeks,
Dreams, in a long solo, that we amuse
The beauty of the surroundings by the false
Confusions between it itself and our gullible song
And to make so high as the love that varies,
Vanishes from the common dream of the back
Or the pure flank followed by my closed glance
A sound, vain and monotonous line.

The task is thus, instrument of flight, o cunning
Syrinx, to blossom again on the lakes where you wait for me
I, proud of my murmuring, I will speak
Of goddesses; and by idolaters’ paintings
In their shadows they still remove their belts
So, when I sucked the clarity from grapes
To banish regret rejected by my feint
Laughing, I raise the empty cluster to the summer sky
And, breathing on their luminous skins, eager
For drunkenness, I look through it until the evening

O nymphs, let us be filled again with diverse MEMORIES
“My eye, piercing the reeds, darted into each immortal
Neck, that drowned its burning in the wave
With a shout of rage to the forest’s sky
And the splendid bath of hair disappears
In the clarity and chills, o precious stones!
I run up, when to my feet, reaching between it, (bruised
From this slowness tasted this evil to be two)
Some sleepers amid their arms, only dangerous
I delight them, without ceasing to embrace them, and steal
To this bed of roses, hated by the frivolous shade
Losing all their perfume in the sun
Where our frolics exhausted the days just the same”
I adore you, wrath of virgins, o delight
Fierce naked burden of the sacred which slips
To escape my lips on fire, drinking, like lightning
Quivering! The secret dismay of the flesh
From the feet of the inhuman to the heart of the shy
Which abandons at the same moment an innocence, wet
With crazy tears or vapors, not so sad
“My crime, it is to have, glad to vanquish these
Treacherous fears, divided, the disheveled tuft
Of kisses which the gods kept so well mixed
Because I was hardly able to hide a burning laugh
Under the happy folds of the only one (keeping
By a simple finger, so that its feathered innocence
Colored by the excitement that lights up her sister
The little girl, naïve, does not blush)
That from my arms, undone by waves of death
This prey, forever thankless, frees itself
Mercilessly from the sobs which still intoxicated me

Too bad! Draw me toward the happiness of others
By their braid tied to the horns on my forehead
You know, my passion, that, purple and already ripe
This pomegranate bursts, and bees rustle
And our blood, loving the one who will enter
Flows for the whole swarm of eternal desire
At a time when this wood of gold and of ashes is tinged
A feast is kindled in the extinguished leaves
Etna! It is upon you, visited by Venus
Who places her innocent heels on your lava
When a sad nap thunders or exhausts the flame
I hold onto the queen!

O certain punishment…

No, but the vacant soul
Of words and this body weighed down
Lately succumbing to the proud silence of noon
Without more one must needs sleep in the oblivion of blasphemy
Lying on the faded sand and as I like
Opening my mouth to the effective star of wines!

Couple, goodbye; I go to see the shade you have become

11/09/08